


Close Enclownters of the Third Kind

by La_Marquise



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Crack, M/M, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24106429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Marquise/pseuds/La_Marquise
Summary: Kastro regrets forgetting to silence his phone.
Relationships: Hisoka/Kastro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Close Enclownters of the Third Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This is really cracky, but I have no regrets. Unlike Kastro, who has many.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the wood of the bedside table jolts Kastro awake. He blindly reaches for it, nearly knocking over a glass of water in the process. With the phone in hand, Kastro squints at the sudden brightness of the screen, frowning when he sees that it’s 3 am. He’s a strong believer of the adage that nothing good ever happens after 3 am and seriously considers turning his phone on silent and going back to sleep, but it buzzes again. With a sigh, Kastro unlocks his phone and goes to his messages. He doesn’t recognize the number, but the content of the texts instantly gives him a clue.

[2:59 am] You awake?

[3:01 am] ⭐️—_—💧

Kastro knows he shouldn’t respond. He should block the number, silence his phone and go back to sleep, but against his better judgement he replies.

[3:03 am] How did you get this number?

His phone buzzes again immediately.

[3:03 am] :)

Kastro groans and flops back down onto the bed, staring up through the darkness. He lies in still silence for several minutes before groaning in frustration when he realizes that he’s no longer tired. There’s no use in lying in bed tossing and turning, so with a sigh of defeat, Kastro switches on the light. 

He jumps when he hears a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he calls out, knowing exactly who it is. When no one answers, he opens the door and glares at the flamboyant-dressed man standing in the hallway. “What do you want?”

“May I come in?” Hisoka’s voice is smooth, his tone calm, as if it were perfectly natural for him to be standing outside a former opponent’s room at a quarter past three in the morning.

“Absolutely not.” Kastro narrows his eyes at him. He hasn’t spoken to Hisoka in person in nearly two years and has very little interest in breaking that streak.

“Pity.” Hisoka shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. “I wanted to talk to you about that rematch you keep going on about.”

Oh. Kastro continues to regard Hisoka with suspicion, though his guarded stance is already relaxing as he subconsciously opens the door a little wider. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“I suppose. But you’re awake now.”

“I wasn’t until you messaged me.”

“Hmm how was I to know that you’re such a light sleeper?” Hisoka’s mouth curves up into a mischievous grin as he stares Kastro down. “Well?”

Kastro exhales, deflating somewhat as he opens the door and steps back to allow the magician entry. “Fine. But I want you gone as soon as we iron out the details.”

“Very well.” Hisoka’s heels click against the tiled floor as he sashays past Kastro and drapes himself in a nearby chair, gesturing to Kastro to do the same.

Kastro momentarily balks at Hisoka telling him to sit in his own room but decides that it’s not worth the effort of speaking up, so he complies. He fixes Hisoka with a stern look, hoping that the other man will make the visit brief. When Hisoka makes no move to begin to elaborate, Kastro takes the lead. “Well?” he prompts, impatiently folding his arms over his chest. “What did you want to say?”

“So testy,” Hisoka clicks his tongue. “All right I’ll make this brief. As much as I’d love to catch up…” he chuckles at Kastro’s scowl. “I know you’ve been looking for a rematch. The fact that you only need one more win to become a Floormaster hasn’t escaped my notice.” His smile widens. “It would have been remiss of me not to.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, my dear, dear Kastro, that I am accepting your challenge. For a rematch.”

“All right fine.” Kastro nods. “Then let’s register as soon as possible.”

“All right. Tomorrow?”

“That works.” Kastro nods decisively and stands, gesturing towards the door. “Was that all you had to say, Hisoka? If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

“No, nothing else.” Hisoka rises and makes his way to the door. Instead of leaving directly, he stops in front of Kastro, smirking and tapping his finger against his lips as if in thought.

“What?” Kastro’s voice is more of a snarl than anything else.

“Hmm…” Hisoka cocks his head to the side. “You look different since I last saw you up close.”

“Hisoka, get out.”

“Your eyes seem… colder. How disappointing.” There is something sardonic in the magician’s voice as he continued to appraise Kastro’s appearance, something that makes Kastro profoundly uncomfortable.

“Look, Hisoka, if you don’t leave…”

“Your hair is longer too.” Hisoka chuckles. “How very daring of you, Kastro.” Before Kastro can say anything, Hisoka’s hand shoots out, impossibly quickly, and seizes a handful of Kastro’s long silver hair. “You ought to tie this back, you know.” He leans forward, lowering his voice to murmur into Kastro’s ear. “It’s so easy to grab like this. Just a friendly word of warning.”

“You bastard!” Kastro shoves Hisoka away, scowling. “I should just kill you right now and do the world a favor.”

Hisoka raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you could? Really?” He’s approaching Kastro again with long, catlike strides. “Do you want to try?” He drawls out the final word as he gets in close again, fixing Kastro with a cold, predatory stare as he looks down at him.

Is he being serious? Kastro can’t tell, but he’s sorely tempted to take him up on his offer. He’d love to show the mocking magician just how much he’s learned…

It happens so quickly that Kastro doesn’t really know what spurred it on, but suddenly Hisoka has him pressed against the wall with his mouth on his neck. All Kastro can manage is a choked out “bastard,” before Hisoka’s mouth seals over his own.

“Eager, are we?” Hisoka murmurs between kisses. “You’ve always been eager, if memory serves.” He nudges Kastro’s legs apart with his own to grind against his crotch. “Don’t tell me you missed me.”

“Fuck you,” Kastro spits out, rutting against Hisoka’s thigh nonetheless. To his surprise, the taller man merely chuckles. “Hmm…” Hisoka murmurs, moving in to bite softly at Kastro’s earlobe. “Would you like to?”

Kastro will never understand why, but something about the way Hisoka is grinding against him makes something deep within him snap. With a guttural growl, he shoves Hisoka off of him and towards the bed.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” he grits out, shedding his pajamas as the magician removes his own clothes. “Is that why you came here? Disgusting.” He’s on Hisoka before he can offer a retort; their mouths crash together in a frenzied mess of lips, teeth and tongue.

Hisoka moans at the insult, already getting hard. “You’re a lot rougher than I remember…” He gasps when Kastro shoves him down onto the bed.

“And you,” Kastro growls, stroking himself, “are just as terrible as I remember.” He pulls Hisoka’s thighs apart, eliciting a deep hum of approval from the red-haired man.

“Hmm…” Hisoka hums noncommittally as Kastro seems to hesitate. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“What kind of question is that?” Kastro snaps. He glares at Hisoka but doesn’t make any further moves on the man. His train of thought interrupted, he furrows his brow and tries to will himself back into action.

That brief moment of inaction is enough for Hisoka to take advantage; in an instant he’s up on his knees, pushing Kastro down onto the bed. If he’s surprised by how easily Kastro allows him to turn him onto his stomach, he doesn’t let on. With uncharacteristic straightforwardness, Hisoka settles between Kastro’s legs and begins to caress and squeeze his ass.

“What are you- o-oh!” Kastro’s question dissolves into a moan when he feels Hisoka’s tongue nudge against his asshole. He longs to look over his shoulder to see what exactly Hisoka is doing, but all he can manage is to let his head drop to the mattress and groan. His face begins to burn with shame when he feels his ass cheeks get roughly pulled apart, exposing him further. The indignity of having his biggest rival spreading him open like this, however, pales in comparison to the ecstasy of having Hisoka’s tongue inside him.

Hisoka pulls back briefly. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself.” 

An understatement.

Kastro can only bite the back of his hand; any attempt to respond to the magician’s observation would only result in very loud, very needy whines. He can’t have that.

Hisoka gives a few more licks before drawing back and circling Kastro’s hole with a spit-slick finger. “Why are you restraining yourself?” he asks, making note of the way Kastro is biting his fist. “No need to be shy. I’d say we’re quite close now, wouldn’t you?”

How can Hisoka be so articulate at a time like this? Kastro grimaces and bites down harder. He’ll be damned if he lets Hisoka get another moan out of him.

Hisoka pushes a finger inside and Kastro’s resolve crumbles; his fist does little to stop the obscene whine that tears itself from deep within his chest. He hears Hisoka chuckle, and his face starts to burn. Suddenly he’s overcome by a wave of stubbornness; there’s no way in hell he’s going to let the clown fuck his ass a second time.

“Stop.” The word is a hoarse, stuttered rasp, largely muffled by the mattress. When Hisoka doesn’t comply, Kastro tries again, as loudly and as clearly as he can muster. “Stop!”

He’s a little surprised when Hisoka obeys. Golden eyes meet his as the magician cocks a questioning eyebrow.

“We’re not doing this.”

Hisoka withdraws his finger with a shrug. 

“Lie down.”

Hisoka’s eyes widen in understanding as his mouth curls into a smirk. “How very forward of you.”

Kastro’s cock is already rock-hard, but when the magician lies down on the bed, legs spread open, it _twitches_. Had he been less worked up, Kastro would have felt a twinge of self-disgust. No time for that now. But…  
He’s never done this before. At least, not with man. Kastro quells the twinge of self-doubt with logic:

_The asses of men and women surely can’t be that different._

“Do you need help?” The hint of mockery in Hisoka’s voice does not go unnoticed.

“Shut up.”

Kastro glances around the room, wondering if he has anything he could use as lubricant. He knows from personal experience that saliva isn’t ideal, but… He looks down at Hisoka, who has started to smirk again, decides that he probably won’t mind, and spits into his hand.

Kastro isn’t gentle when he slides a finger into Hisoka’s ass, but the magician immediately starts to gasp and moan with such intensity that Kastro wonders if he’s faking it.

“You’re being so gentle with me,” Hisoka praises when Kastro adds another finger and starts to stretch him. “I’m _touched_.”

Kastro doesn’t respond, only grits his teeth and continues. When he withdraws his fingers and spits into his hand again to slick himself up, he notices that Hisoka has propped himself up on his elbows and his regarding him with half-lidded eyes. “What?”

“I’m just taking a look at what you’re going to give me.” A lazy half-smile spreads over the redhead’s face. “Color me impressed.”

“You’ve seen it before.” 

“I didn’t get a good look before you shoved it down my throat.”

Kastro shudders at the words yet feels his cock throb at the memory. Deciding that his cock isn’t realistically going to get any wetter, he shoves Hisoka back onto the bed and positions himself between his legs. As he lines his cock up with Hisoka’s entrance, the sheer absurdity of the situation suddenly occurs to him.

He’s really about to fuck the clown.

Shit.

It’s too late to back out now, so Kastro grits his teeth and slides in.

Hisoka’s reaction was instantaneous; a deluge of pornographic moans suddenly spews from his mouth. The obscenity of it all makes Kastro’s ears go red; he hooks his arms under Hisoka’s knees and folds them back against the larger man’s chest, determined to fuck him into silence.

“Ah~ Are you trying to break me?” Hisoka’s voice is hoarse, his breath hitching as Kastro fucks into him.

“Shut. _Up._ ” Hisoka is impossibly tight around him, a fact that Kastro finds strangely surprising. He’s not sure what he expected, but…

“Mmm… you look so determined right now.” Hisoka rests a sharp-nailed hand against Kastro’s cheek in a display of mock intimacy. “I love it.” 

“Can’t you- ah! Ever…” Kastro’s jaw is clenched so tightly that he’s sure his teeth are going to fracture. How can Hisoka even think right now? Let alone form coherent sentences. He jerks his head away from the offending hand, skin crawling from the touch. If he wasn’t buried balls-deep in Hisoka’s ass, he’d be tempted to cut the hand off. If only…

He’s close. Kastro has no interest in showcasing his stamina to the magician; he’s unabashedly chasing his own orgasm. The oft-mentioned coil of pleasure is tight in his gut, the tension increasing with every thrust.  
Hisoka’s moans have not subsided in the slightest, and Kastro is seized by the urge to just shut him up. His hand shoots out and tightens around the magician’s throat.

Golden eyes widen in surprise before narrowing again as Hisoka slowly licks his lips. Kastro tightens his grip, and suddenly the man beneath him is writhing and bucking against him like a bitch in heat.

Kastro has never seen a bitch in heat, not in the literal sense, but he imagines that it’s a fair comparison. 

It only takes a few more snaps of his hips to send Hisoka reeling into orgasm; the magician cums without having his cock touched.

Kastro finishes soon after, burying himself as deep as he can and cumming with a soft grunt.

The haze of pleasure immediately clears as soon as Kastro pulls out., and he is faced with the reality that he’s just fucked Hisoka, who is covered in his own semen and filled with his. It’s 4 am, and he’s going to have to change the bedsheets. Fuck.

“Can I use your shower?” Hisoka’s voice, though smooth and silky, is like nails on a chalkboard to Kastro’s psyche. 

“Go to your own room.”

“Like this?” Hisoka gestures to his chest, and Kastro concedes that he has a point.

“Fine, but don’t touch my shampoo.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
